House Call
by annalyia
Summary: Anna goes to Peter's for the first time, and, through various circumstances, meets his family. Slight fluff, because, y'know.


"So, this is where I live." Peter drives up to a large house, a house that seems too big for him and the other five members of his family. "I…know what you're thinking," he says, catching my appraising look at his house. "But…it's really not that big."

"Peter, there are buildings on Olympus that aren't this big."

His face flushes bright red as he mumbles, "I know. But don't say anything, okay? Especially to Adam and Michelle."

"Okay."

He turns off the car and walks around it to open my door. "Thanks." He grabs my hand and we walk for a few steps. "Do you think your parents and siblings will like me?"

"I'm not so worried about that," he says. "I think they'll like you just fine, I'm just worried that they'll want to meet your parents or something and, well, having met your parents, I'm not sure how that would work out." He pauses. "Besides, you should worry about my siblings – my older brother and the twins are going to be hard to impress."

I laugh and squeeze his hand. "I believe that I will be fine, my love."

He huffs out a sigh. "I'm glad you're confident about this, at least." He picks up the pace and opens the front door with little ceremony to reveal a large front hall; there is a light fixture hanging from the cream-colored ceiling, the walls are painted a soft yellow, and a staircase with a large bannister leads up to the next floor. "Home!" he shouts to no one that I can see or hear. I glance at him and see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Anna is here too." He doesn't shout that.

"Peter!" It is two voices in unison – the twins, I assume. "Peter!" They hold the 'r' out. A blonde girl, about 8, slides down the steps on a blanket with a brunette boy of the same age hanging on to the end of it, bouncing with each step taken. The blanket continues to skid across the wooden floor until the children come to a stop at our feet. "Hi, Peter!" the girl says, slightly breathless. "Who's the pretty girl?" she asks, tilting her head. She narrows her eyes that are the same shade of blue as Peter's. "Does she _like_ you?"

"Hi, Hannah," he says while bending down to give his little sister a kiss on the forehead. "This is Anna, like I said before. And, yeah, you could say she likes me." He plants his lips on my cheek, causing Hannah to squeal.

"Ew!" she shrieks. "That's so gross!"

"It is a little gross, Peter," his younger brother says. "She's a _girl_," he says it like it's a naughty word, "and they have _cooties_!" His eyes grow wide. "The other boys say that all girls have cooties, even Hannah, but I'm not sure if I believe Hannah has them."

"The boys told you I have cooties, Danny? That's not very nice."

Danny throws his arms around his twin's shoulders. "Don't worry, I told them that they were wrong."

"Good."

"Is anyone else home?"

Hannah nods. "Mama and Andrew are home right now. Daddy's still out," she reports.

Peter lets out a sigh of relief. "Awesome. Where is Mom?"

Danny looks down. "I ripped my pants earlier, so she's sewing 'em up for me." He twists his fingers together. "I didn't mean to," he mumbles.

"It's alright, bud," Peter says as he ruffles Danny's hair, causing the boy to smile. "Well, Anna and I are going to go check up on Mom, alright you two? Promise me you'll behave at least for a little bit?"

"Promise!" they say together, saluting their older brother before grabbing their blanket and scrambling back up the stairs.

"That went well," I say.

"Mhm."

I stop Peter and turn him to face me. "It did, okay? I'm a few thousand years older than you, so I believe that I know what I am talking about." I kiss his nose, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Now, where is your mother?"

"The study, probably."

Peter takes my hand again and leads me down a high-ceilinged hallway, the walls of which are adorned with paintings and family pictures. I can see that Peter got his hair from his mother, as did Hannah. Andrew and Danny, on the other hand, resemble their father in that aspect.

There is a polished wooden door at the end of the hallway, on which Peter gently knocks. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Peter slowly inches the door open to reveal a large, open room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books where there are not full-length windows. Peter's mother is curled up in a large armchair with a pair of cargo shorts in her hand, unhurriedly darning a hole in the leg. She watches Peter lead me into the room. "Hi, Mom," he says, leaving me just past the doorway and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. "How has your day been?"

She puts down the shorts on her lap desk and smiles up at her son. "It's been alright, Peter. It was mostly quiet around here; the twins were at school and Andrew was out all day." She sighs and it is content. "Your father will be home from work soon, and I was actually about to finish up Danny's pants before starting on dinner. Is there anything that you, or that girl behind you that you have yet to introduce, would prefer?" She smiles. "Hello, dear."

"Hi, I'm Anna," I say, startled by his mother's forward attitude – Peter is so shy that I assumed the rest of his family was as well. "I, um, don't eat meat."

Her eyebrows arch at my response. "I never expected Peter to bring home a vegetarian," she says before picking up the shorts again and finishing the last few stitches. She holds them in front of herself, turning them around. "Good enough." She throws the shorts over her shoulder and stands up. "Let's return these to Danny."

"Yes ma'am."

Peter follows his mother out of the study, dragging me along. We end up back in the front room from before, and take the stairs. Peter gives me a quick tour of the second floor before meeting with his mother at the top of the stairs.

"So, Anna, tell me a little about yourself."

"I go to school with Peter."

She laughs and it is bright. "Well I assumed as much, dear," she says. "Where are you from? Have any siblings? Pets?"

"I'm from here in town, and I have, well, I have a lot of siblings. My parents have been, ah, married before they got together and had children from those previous marriages. I sort of lose track of all of my siblings. I also have a dog, to answer your last question."

She nods. "Anything else?"

I wrack my brain for an answer as we arrive in the kitchen. "My mom has a great garden and we eat a lot of fresh vegetables from it," I tell her, sounding like an absolute idiot. "That's part of the reason I don't eat meat."

"What's the other part?"

"I get along with animals too well."

"Understandable."

Peter clears his throat. "Anything I can do, Mom?"

His mother stops pulling pots out of the cabinet to face her son. "Not right now," she replies, throwing a quick glance at me. "Does vegetable lasagna sound good for dinner?"

"It does."

She smiles. "Good. Now get out of my kitchen!" she says, shooing us out with a dish towel. "I've got cooking to do and I can't have hormonal teenagers in here distracting me!" Her eyes twinkle with a kindness that I see in Peter.

"You got it," he says, returning her smile with a matching one – I now see that Peter resembles his mother a great deal.

We climb the stairs again and Peter shows me a place that I can only assume is a sitting room; there are a couple recliners strategically placed around a loveseat with a couch lining another wall. Peter unceremoniously plops onto the loveseat and lets out a heavy sigh. "That could have gone a lot worse," he says, eyes searching my face for a response. He pats the seat next to him, and I sit down gently. "What do you think?"

I shrug. "I agree, for the most part." I bite my lip. "Where's Andrew?"

Peter sits up abruptly. "He's probably busy," he says quickly. "Besides, he's…a lot like our father, and I'm not sure how he will react to you either."

My eyebrows knit together. "Peter, my parents are literally _gods_ and you did just fine meeting them. I think I can handle myself."

"I…I know you can. I'm just worried about how my dad will handle it." He nervously twists his hands in the same way that Danny did earlier.

I slip my fingers through his. "It'll be fine, love." I kiss him gently on the lips and then his nose. In return, he cups my face and forcefully presses his lips to mine. "You okay?" I ask when he finally detaches his lips from mine. "You seem…stressed."

Peter's mouth twitches. "I'm just worried, is all," he mutters. "Andrew and my dad are a little…scary, and I _know_ that you've dealt with worse, but still. I just want everything to go smoothly and, well, if that makes me want to, y'know, kiss you, I'm sorry." He pauses. "Actually, I'm not sorry." He kisses me again with renewed vigor.

I smile against his lips. His kiss is still timid compared to gods I am usually with. One of his hands rests on my hip and the other twists a lock of my hair around a shaking finger. I interlock my fingers behind his neck and let out a slight sigh of contentment. Peter gives me one last small kiss before resting his forehead against mine. "Not sorry at all," he whispers, a ghost of a grin on his face.

"I'm glad."

Someone clears their throat out in the hallway. "Peter?"

Peter shoots straight up and pushes me away from him. "Andrew?" He stands. "Is there something you need?" His manner has become more formal and he seems very strained. "Can I help you?"

A figure appears in the doorway. It is a boy, a few years older than Peter. He has the same blue eyes as Peter, but that is where the similarities end. While Peter has straight blonde hair, Andrew has dark brown hair that doesn't quite curl. Andrew's features are more angular than Peter's; he has a straight nose and a slightly pointed chin with a shadow of stubble. He appears to fit in his body, while Peter is gangly in form. His muscular arms are crossed over an equally sculpted chest, and he scowls at his younger brother. His eyes dart to my face and then back to Peter's.

"Can I help you?" Peter repeats.

Andrew clears his throat again. "Dad's home and Mom said that dinner's ready. So whenever you and…her—" he waves his hand in my direction "—are ready to eat, feel free to head downstairs."

"Anna and I will be down in a moment," Peter says, hands in his pockets and shoulders noticeably slumped – his posture has changed significantly since Andrew entered the room. "Don't wait up."

"Not a problem." Andrew turns on his heel and leaves us.

Peter glances at me over his shoulder. "So that's Andrew," he says.

"He seems…confident," I say.

Peter relaxes a little at my comment. "You could say that," he says, facing me and extending a hand to help me off the loveseat, which I gladly take. He gives me a soft kiss. "Think you can handle this?"

"What could possibly go wrong?"

"Don't say that."

"Sorry, love."

Gripping my hand like he might die without it, Peter leads me down the stairs and to his family's dining room.

His mother is trying – and only sort of succeeding – to get the twins to stay seated. His father, from whom Andrew gets his looks, reminds me of my own father; disinterested expression, pinstripe suit, and general uncaring atmosphere. Andrew is wearing the same scowl as before on his lips, his eyes following Peter and I as we enter the room and take our seats at a table that seems like it should be too big but fits the family perfectly.

"Peter."

"Dad."

His mother clears her throat with a pained smile on her face. "Shall we eat, then?"

There is a general consensus and the lasagna is passed from person to person, followed by buttered rolls and salad mix. Each person, myself included, piles a moderate amount of food onto their plate, except the twins, who have their portions doled out by their mother. Not much, other than small talk, is said. Everyone finishes their food quickly and we are left to sit at the table and converse. Peter's family discusses their days; what happened at school, at work, and at home. I stay silent unless asked a question.

"So what do your parents do, Anna?" Peter's father asks me.

"My mother's a stay-at-home farmer and my father works for the weather service," I say. "Mom maintains the extensive garden that we have in our backyard and sometimes sells the excess produce that we have at the farmer's market or she just gives it to our neighbors."

He nods. "Sounds nice."

Nice? I suppose.

"And your siblings?"

"Well, they're rather scattered and I only know what a few of them do. One of my brothers runs a distillery, another works as a mechanic, and one of my sisters sells makeup and other beauty products. Other than that, I'm not entirely sure. I don't keep up with all of them since my parents only had my sister, Persephone, and I while being together. She owns a flower shop."

"Oh, a flower shop? That sounds lovely!" Peter's mom says. "I do love flowers."

"It's a pretty place to be. Unfortunately, she doesn't live around here."

"Where does she live?"

"California."

"That sure is far away. How often do you see each other?"

"The family tries to get together a couple times a year, like for Christmas and maybe during the summer."

"That's good." Peter's mother smiles brightly at me.

Peter's father stands and pushes his chair back. "Excuse me, please," he says. "I have some work to do." He takes his leave of the room.

"I'm out," Andrew says approximately five seconds later, not even pushing his chair back in after he rushes out of the room.

"We're gonna go play some more, Mama!" the twins shout as they crawl under the table to reach the door faster.

"Do you need us to help clean up, Mom?" Peter asks.

She shakes her head. "No thanks, Peter. I've got it. You two go watch a movie or something."

"Alright."

Peter takes me back upstairs to the room we were in before dinner. He makes sure that I am comfortable on the love seat before saying, "I'll be right back. I have to go and, well, talk to my dad really quick."

"Good luck."

When he returns sometime later, Peter does not appear to be in a very good mood.

"How'd it go?"

"Well, he doesn't hate you. He just doesn't like me dating anyone that he or Mom or Andrew didn't pick out for me. He probably is holding your parents', uh, previous marriages and many children against you, as well. He's just so prim and proper and ends up being the most arrogant douchebag in the world that I feel like I'm going crazy." Peter takes a breath and looks at me, eyes searching my face. "I feel like he loves how much Andrew is like him and he notices how I am more like my mother and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like that I'm willing to take chances and live my life and love who I want. But I guess he just wants the best for me."

I slip my hands into Peter's and interlock our fingers. "It's fine that he isn't in love with me just yet, dear," I say. "This is only the first time we've met, anything could happen. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay."

Peter sighs and pulls me into his lap, letting me curl up against him before wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. He puts on a movie that I, at least, don't pay that much attention to. My brain is too busy thinking about how the evening has been going. His mother and the twins seem to like me, but Andrew and his father are wild cards. Like Peter said, they are very similar and it only seems logical that they would share the same opinion of me. But I suppose that I shouldn't worry.

"Anna?"

"Hm?" I turn so that I can look at Peter. "What?"

"Just this." He, once again, leans in to kiss me. It is less timid than last time. This time, one hand runs its way through my curls, and another makes its way under my shirt and slides along from my stomach to the small of my back, pushing me close. He makes a small noise of happiness in the back of his throat and then he relaxes noticeably. He deepens the kiss for a moment before detaching his lips from mine and sighing. "You're beautiful."

"You're not too bad looking yourself," I say.


End file.
